


Plastic Stars

by Merrinpippy



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Alternate Universe - Space Opera, Angst with a Happy Ending, But also Some Funny Moments sprinkled in there, Canon-Typical Blood-Licking, Canon-Typical Violence, Cops in Space!, Denial, Detroit Police Department (Detroit: Become Human), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Jericho (Detroit: Become Human), M/M, Mutual Pining, Mystery, Panic Attacks, Pre-Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Rebellion, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, Space Battles, Spaceships, Thirium (Detroit: Become Human), You Might See a Running Theme Here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-07-18 20:36:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16126256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merrinpippy/pseuds/Merrinpippy
Summary: Lost, damaged, and more alone than ever, Connor and the crew of the DPS COFFEE MAKER are in for a surprise in the form of three skinless androids floating through space. Taking them in adds another complication to Connor’s time-sensitive secret mission, on top of his struggle between his slowly emerging deviancy and his ingrained loyalty to Amanda Stern.While on board, Markus, North, and Simon must figure out what the hell is really going on on the COFFEE MAKER- from the unusual patterns of deviance in the crew to whatever dark secrets they have hidden in the cargo bay- while hiding their true identities as leaders of the android rebellion. The shy romance that blooms between Markus and Connor could save them all… or spell the end for every deviant in the galaxy.





	1. Lots of Connors on a Spaceship

**Author's Note:**

> I think I've tagged this thoroughly enough, but I will of course be adding new tags with each chapter so as to avoid major spoilers. If you think I've missed a tag at any point, please let me know.

TEMPORARY SHUT DOWN ACTIVATED.

RESTARTING…

RUNNING PRELIMINARY SCANS…

SEVERAL ERRORS DETECTED. SUPERFICIAL WOUNDS LOCATED IN AREA 6 OF THE FOREHEAD CHASSIS. SIGNIFICANT DAMAGE TO COMMUNICATIONS WIRING. LONG RANGE COMMUNICATIONS 0% FUNCTIONAL. THIRIUM LOSS AT 6% AND RISING. RECOMMENDED ACTION: RETURN TO A CYBERLIFE SHIP FOR REPAIRS.

Connor stares blankly ahead as Tina Chen fiddles around with the wires in his forehead, which he already knows are damaged beyond repair. Thirium continues to spill from the wound at a slow but steady pace, not having stopped since the explosion. Connor notes that the cauterisation pathway hasn’t activated automatically. Tina’s an engineer, not a medic; he will have to do that himself.

“Frayed. They’re all frayed,” Tina concludes, leaning back and humming distastefully. His thirium has gotten all over her navy t-shirt and cargo pants uniform, but her base layer remains untarnished. With nothing more to do, she closes the casing around the wires so his artificial skin can flow back over his face. It’s not flawless, but it’s better than nothing. Tina shrugs. “You’ll probably heal them yourself over time, but we don’t have any replacements for these. It means you won’t be able to communicate with anyone without going through the ship first, and that’s if we can repair the comms on the ship.”

RK800 -60 scoffs from where he’s perched near the door. “Not like he communicates like that with us much anyway. Doesn’t like sharing data.”

Connor swivels his blank gaze over to him. “Speaking to you is more than sufficient to complete our tasks. You know why I don’t share data, -60. The mission data I have is-”

“Classified, yeah yeah.” -60 rolls his eyes. “Brain function normal?”

Connor runs a diagnostic.

NO OTHER SYSTEMS DAMAGED. INJURIES NON-CRITICAL.

“Brain function normal,” Connor confirms. -60 breathes out a subtle sigh of relief, and Connor wonders when he started to simulate breathing on a regular basis. “Are we done?”

Tina laughs, standing up and setting her tools aside. “Yeah, we’re done. Nothing else I can do for you, I’m afraid. On the bright side there’s nothing stopping you from returning to duty, as long as you get yourself cleaned up first. Don’t want to give Hank a heart attack- if he hasn’t already had one.”

Tina pinches her shirt in mock disgust as she leaves the room, clearly also about to get cleaned up. It’s probably the first time she’s worn her uniform since climbing aboard the DPS COFFEE MAKER. What exactly is it about the humans on board that make them so reluctant to wear what they’re supposed to wear? Connor wouldn’t mind _so much_ but it’s rubbing off on the androids too. Even -60, more dutiful than the others, has foregone his black gloves and base layer today. Somehow he’s gotten hold of pirate socks, which Connor can see because he’s also foregone his shoes. As for RK800s -53 and -55… he’s lucky if they’re even wearing their triangle and armlets most of the time.

Connor sighs. No. That’s unfair on them. They may not conform to uniform quite to the standard that he does, but they nearly always have those. But probably only because they know he’ll be upset with them if they don’t.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY.

Wait. No. Upset is the wrong word. He doesn’t get upset-

“What are you over-thinking about now, Connor?” -60 says, standing up and coming closer to him, careful not to crowd.

“Interesting sock choice,” Connor replies as he wipes his hands down his already stained pants. He’ll have to change.

“We just got attacked by an unknown hostile, your head nearly got blown up, and we’re lost in the middle of space- and you’re concerned about my socks?” -60 asks, more amused than anything.

Connor frowns lightly. “So we are lost,” he says.

-60 looks less amused now. “Chris and -55 are trying to repair the COFFEE MAKER’s navigation but the attackers were very thorough. They _wanted_ to hit the navigation _specifically,_ and they knew exactly where to aim to do that. I mean, how else would the attack have been bad enough to cause an internal explosion? It was lucky you were there… if not…”

“Don’t.” Connor doesn’t want to think about what might have happened had he not felt the shift in the air, in the pressure. If he hadn’t thrown himself in front of the lieutenant and taken the brunt of the explosion himself. If instead, it had been Hank... -60 looks at him knowingly, so Connor frowns further. “I _meant_ , it is pointless to simulate what might have happened. It happened. Don’t waste your processing power.”

-60 has the gall to snicker at him. “Whatever. We can talk later. Go get yourself cleaned up and then go see Hank and the others. Gavin, at least, will probably get a kick out of your new head wound.”

Though -60 is a lower rank than him, Connor feels dismissed as the other RK800 turns away to tend to Tina’s dirty tools. Alright. New objective: clean up and change into a fresh uniform.

On his way back to his quarters Connor runs through the ship’s database and tries to find a match to the small but deadly ship that attacked them, a red v-shaped dogfighter. It had come out of nowhere and didn’t even look like a threat; Connor might have mistaken it for an asteroid because of its texture had it not been for the distinctive red markings on its sides. And, of course, its firepower. They barely had time to react before it shot at them. Not enough to destroy them- Connor is certain that if it had stayed any longer they could have destroyed it instead- but -60 was right. The ship knew exactly where it had to hit the COFFEE MAKER to get an explosion like that. Now Connor has to wonder: what exactly does the hostile ship gain from getting them lost?

As far as Connor knows, only Amanda and Captain Fowler know exactly where they’re headed, and neither of them are on the ship. Connor, too, technically, but rather than coordinates Connor just has precise directions to lessen the risk of information leakage if something like this happened. Connor’s also the only one who knows exactly _why_ they’re headed there. The crew must know it’s a delivery of some kind, with a section of the cargo bay locked to everyone save for Connor, but Connor is the only one entrusted by Amanda to-

 _Amanda._ He’s not going to be able to interface with Amanda without communications.

Tentatively, he pokes at the program in his mind, the Zen Garden.

ACTIVATING PROGRAM: ZEN GARDEN.

PROCESS FAILED. TRY AGAIN?

ACTIVATING PROGRAM: ZEN GARDEN.

PROCESS FAILED. TRY AGAIN // TROUBLESHOOT // EXIT.

TROUBLESHOOTING… PROGRAM INACCESSIBLE DUE TO COMMUNICATIONS DAMAGE. REPAIR DAMAGE AND TRY AGAIN.

… It’s unresponsive. It requires his communications to be online to activate, even if there’s no-one on the other side. He can’t even visit the Garden by himself.

He’s completely cut off from CyberLife.

Connor staggers in the middle of the corridor at the surge of- of _feelings_ that power through him at that. 22% relief, 39% horror, 39% fear.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY.

Yes, okay, Connor thinks. You can stop saying that now.

It’s been several months since the first instability error appeared in his interface. Connor remembers clearly- has to, because he’s an android- it was when he was with Hank. The lieutenant was introducing him to his dog, Sumo, for the first time. They weren’t supposed to have animals on board, technically, but after a while Hank had finally trusted Connor enough to confide in him.

For an entire week afterwards, the COFFEE MAKER was renamed, and instead the plasma on the side of the ship read DPS DOGE. The first software instability message had appeared as soon as Connor had touched the dog’s fur, and thought, _I could pet this dog forever._

“Jeez, Connor- damage that bad?”

Connor shakes himself of his thoughts and straightens as another android hurries towards him. He doesn’t need to scan the others to identify them anymore; recently RK800-53 has been very fond of his apron and hasn’t taken it off for days, and there’s no exception now. There’s something else about his appearance, too-

-53 descends on him with none of -60’s reluctance to crowd, going as far as to lick his head wound, and for once Connor understands why Hank doesn’t like him licking things.

“Let go of me immediately, -53. I’m fine.”

-53 frowns. “You’re still bleeding,” he points out. “That does not align with my definition of ‘fine’.

Connor does not press the point. “I will likely need the wound cauterised before I continue with my duties.”

-53 peers at the wound with something Connor would label as anxiety in a human. “I’m surprised Tina hasn’t already cauterised it. It’s making your LED leak.”

“She thought it would- _leak?”_ Connor jerks in panic, his hands flying to his injury. His diagnostic hadn’t mentioned a _leak._ He would certainly not be fit for duty now-

“No, no,” -53 pulls his hands away, ignoring Connor’s command to stop touching him. “It’s leaking _light._ As in, right now your injury is flickering a vibrant red… and now yellow… and now blue.”

“Thank you for that,” Connor says irritably, pulling out of -53’s grasp and moving to pass him.

“I didn’t mean to make you panic,” -53 says, getting in his way. “Let me help you cauterise it, and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

Connor stops, staring him down. “You need to stop taking language cues from Hank. It’s detrimental to the clarity of your statements.” Connor takes -53 by the arm and all but drags him down the corridor in the direction of his quarters.

The COFFEE MAKER was made to be a pleasant working environment for humans, but equally, a working environment. The corridors are a sterile white colour separated by lines of artificial light embedded in the walls. In the living spaces, though, parts of the wall are covered in synthetic red bricks to emulate traditional human architecture, and in much of the ship the doors are glass in an attempt to prevent feelings of claustrophobia in the crew.

Connor’s quarters do not count as a living space, and are a pale, emotionless grey. There is a large circular porthole through which he can see the dark emptiness of space; the humans are housed closer to the centre of the ship for safety, but the androids’ quarters cushion its interior. There is a charging port and two simple double beds in case they need to take on passengers, or more criminals than the cells can hold.

There is also a sterilising shower, a wardrobe, and an emergency kit, which Connor focuses on now. He strips his clothes without shame- -53 knows exactly what he looks like underneath everything regardless- and leaves them on the floor, knowing -53 will dispose of them appropriately. He jolts a little at the temperature change when he turns the shower on, but otherwise does not move. Now that Tina has closed the internal plating, the wound on his head is only superficial, and the water only washes away the thirium already spilled. He leans out of the shower cubicle to get -53’s attention.

“Still bleeding?” he asks.

-53 waits a moment before nodding and trodding over to him, cauterisation tool in hand. He hesitates.

“You know it won’t hurt,” Connor says.

“Deviancy is hard,” -53 replies, before bringing the tool to Connor’s head and turning it on.

It doesn’t hurt, but it does prompt a barrage of error messages telling him to REMOVE BURNING STIMULUS. He stays entirely still until it is done, then curtly nods and returns his head to the water. He is completely sterilised in 3.6 seconds. He leaves the spray in 5.4.

“That’s the first time you’ve said it aloud,” Connor says as he dries. He amends mentally- either that or the first time he’s said it aloud in front of _him._ Connor could understand why that might be.

-53 fidgets with the cauterisation tool, and Connor reminds himself that that isn’t necessarily a symptom of deviancy, seeing as Connor has his own old-fashioned coin he uses to calibrate his hands. “It must be hard to hear,” -53 says. “Being you.”

Connor frowns. “We’re the same.”

“We’re the same _model,”_ -53 corrects, not unkindly. “We are not the same. But that’s not a bad thing.” -53 closes the emergency kit. The dirty clothes, as Connor suspected, are nowhere to be seen. -53 nods to him and leaves Connor alone to dress.

Black base layer, thin black gloves, black pants, black panelled DPD t-shirt. Gold armlet, utility belt and triangle. He’s the only one of the androids with that colour. He doesn’t bother with the windbreaker. -53 has also, apparently, left him a gift: socks with little dogs adorned on them, which -53 no doubt knitted himself. Connor doesn’t smile, but if he did, he’d probably be smiling now. Though it’s not strictly uniform, he puts them on too, if only to keep -53 content.

And now that’s he’s (mostly) back to normal, his next objective registers in his interface: find Hank on the bridge. Probably comfort Hank on the bridge. Connor blinks, and then that objective is gone.

He doesn’t run into anymore deviant androids on the way to the bridge. He feels something like an error message when he refers to his fellow RK800s as deviants, but that’s what they are. They’re loyal, though. To him and to Amanda. So there’s no point detaining them or turning them in. He prefers it when the crew can tell the four of them apart, anyway.

“Status?” is what Connor greets to those on the bridge, a large circular room darker lit than most of the ship to make the large dark screen at the front of the room easier to look at. There are many stations, but only three are occupied, and only two really need to be. It’s a small ship, after all.

“Connor!” is Hank’s immediate reply, and before he’s two steps into the room Hank is sweeping him up in a warm hug. “Thank God. You alright? Nothing wrong? Face looks a little weird- no, wait, that’s just you.” Hank’s grin widens when Connor smiles at his joke.

“Holy shit, zombie Connor,” Gavin greets him. “If we smash your face in just a little more, we could hang you up as a disco ball in the rec room.” But when Hank and Connor pay him no mind, he spins in his chair and grumbles, “Get a room you two.”

“Shut up, detective,” Connor says blandly.

RK800-55 pops out from the metal grating under his station. “Yeah, shut up Gavin,” he says.

-53 sticks his head through the doorway. “Yeah, shut up Gavin,” he contributes, holding back a smile.

From somewhere further down the ship, a similar voice shouts, “Yeah, shut up Gavin!”

 _“Oh my God!”_ Gavin yells, throwing his hands up and spinning his chair in two annoyed circles. The RK800s laugh to themselves and get back to work. Connor’s smile is wry, and one he shares with Hank.

But seeing -53 again has made Connor realise what’s different about him this time. “Gavin,” he smiles accusingly. “Did you shave -53’s hair?”

Gavin begins to laugh. “Yeah!” he says, giving Connor a smug look. “Because it looked like shit before! What he’s got now is called a fade, for the stylistically challenged- so, you- and he loves it.”

“Sure,” says Connor, having already decided he doesn’t care.

But Hank’s looking at him oddly. “Hey, your hair’s different too. I thought you androids couldn’t change it because blah blah blah prototypes.”

Connor blinks, wondering what Hank could be talking about, before it clicks. He’s sure his cheeks redden at the realisation. “Oh. I didn’t gel my hair back after I cleaned the thirium away like I usually do.”

“Keep it,” Gavin says. “It makes you look like less of a prick. But not by much.”

But the mention of blue blood seems to have sobered Hank’s mood.

“Really, I’m okay,” Connor insists. “And even if I wasn’t, I’d still want to have taken the blast instead. If it had been you, I don’t think I could…” Connor trails off, unsure as to how exactly he could phrase the complex ‘what-if’s his programming has embedded the memory of the explosion in.

Hank swallows and his expression softens. Hank likes it when Connor does things that could be misconstrued as deviancy.

“So,” Connor says softly. “Status?”

Hank sighs and runs a hand through his hair, letting him go to turn back to the captain’s station. Gavin taps the ship interface at his station a few times and a fragmented, glitching map appears on the screen.

“It’s fuckin’ broken,” Gavin complains, gesturing to the map. “Can’t get any data from it. We’ve spun wildly out of control, and now we have no idea where the fuck we are.”

Hank nods. “Our best bet is to scan for any nearby planets that we can stop off to do repairs and get on with this, uh, super secret mission you’ve been given. The damage isn’t _critical,_ but I mean. It’s the map, it’s the navigation. Your directions don’t help us if we don’t know where the hell we are, you know? Oh, speaking of- how’s your-?”

“My communications, barring speech, are completely offline,” Connor apologises. “I’m not any more helpful than that map, for now. It’ll heal with time, but in the meantime I agree with your assessment.”

Hank pauses, a hesitant look on his face. “Barring speech,” he repeats. “So you mean _all-?”_

“My communication with Amanda is, for the time being, completely cut off, yes.” Connor’s mentioned Amanda enough around Hank to get the sense that Hank doesn’t like her, despite the two having never met.

Hank nods, schooling his expression. “Oh,” he says, and gives nothing else away, though Connor can tell he’s happy at the news. “Well.” He looks at Gavin with a leer. “Engage.”

Gavin mutters something about ‘stupid old man references’ (Connor knows he’s bluffing, as he’s seen Gavin watching Star Trek in the rec room on many occasions).

And then, they’re off.

-

Markus is so, so incredibly fucked.

They had been doing so well. Not that you would be able to tell from all the screaming and gunfire. But there’s not much you can do when you’re physically incapable of outrunning your predator, and in the face of the FBIS JUSTICE, there was nothing to do except prepare for the worst. Markus can’t help but think that’s ironic.

Pretending to be abandoned hadn’t worked. Clearly their hunter knew their ship already- though unassuming in appearance, the SS JERICHO couldn’t be mistaken if one had all the rumours from all the right people. Markus has to hand it to his enemies: they know how to get a job done.

He can’t singlehandedly save all of the androids under his care from the humans ravaging their ship, and all of the escape pods won’t be enough to get everyone out. There’s nowhere to go. Nowhere to run.

They run regardless.

“Through here!” North yells, as if it’s a way out. Markus, Josh, and Simon follow her through it as if they believe her.

Sirens wailing. The ground shuddering beneath their feet with every footfall. Their very world threatens to implode, and there’s nothing Markus can do to stop it.

Markus hopes that Carl won’t mourn him too terribly.

“Get down!” North screams in his ear. He envies her focus. “It should be around this next corner-”

That stops Markus in his tracks for a second. “What, North? Where-?”

“The only place we can go that they can’t follow.”

They duck behind a curtain and then North’s pointing to a porthole in the side of the-

“Seriously?” Josh says it before Markus gets the chance. “We can’t just abandon our people-”

“They’re after M-!” A deafening explosion drowns out North’s words. “They’re after Markus, after we broadcasted his speech! If he dies now, the revolution dies.”

“If we abandon our people, they’ll lose all hope in us, and it won’t matter anyway,” Markus says. The pounding of human footsteps grows nearer and nearer.

“Perhaps,” North allows, a striking clarity in her eyes that surprises Markus. “Until we come back and save them.”

She flicks her braid behind her and opens the airlock. Markus and Simon step inside; Josh hesitates. It sickens Markus to his stomach that he cannot do more than this to protect his people, but right now, he needs his friends with him.

“North’s right,” Markus pleads. “We do this or we die today.”

A curtain rips. A swarm of humans in black round the corner, and only Markus’ preconstructions let him dodge their bullets. Simon is hit.

It all happens in a second.

North’s distracted by the soldiers, so it’s easy for Josh to push her in the airlock too. The door closes behind her as Josh interfaces with it, and then they’re all sucked into the cold vacuum of space and shot away from the ship. Markus sees determination in Josh’s eyes before he spins away, and chooses to believe that he will be alright.

And then time seems to speed up again. North and Simon next to him, artificial skins retracted, trying to get glimpses of the JERICHO, to make sure it’s not about to combust. Everything looks far more peaceful in the silent blankness of space. Markus’ skin, of course, is retracted too.

He reaches out to North with one hand and Simon with the other. They’re too small targets for the JUSTICE, thankfully, but Markus knows (RA9 does he know) that there’s absolutely nothing for at least an astronomical unit. It could be anywhere between weeks to years before they stop. And by then, it will be too late.

Markus shares this with North and Simon through their connection.

 _‘We have to hope,’_ says Simon. _'_ _Th_ _ere’s nothing more we can do.’_

 _‘I just thought it was better than dying- better than losing the entire fight there and then,’_ North says, which is as close as she’ll get to accepting criticism of her plan. She looks scared. They both do.

Markus is scared too. For his people, for his friends, even for Carl. But he lets none of that show on his face or in the thoughts transmitted through his hands.

 _‘We’ll be okay,’_ he says, firm. _‘But for now, we need to go into stasis mode, otherwise we’ll be useless by the time we can get help.’_

The others nod, trusting him implicitly. Markus wonders if he’s quite earned that, considering where it’s all led. But he takes one last glance around at the beautiful darkness of the universe, and then begins to power down.

He’s going to be out here for a long time.

-

On the other side of the JERICHO, another airlock seals shut, plunging the final escape pod out into the vast emptiness. The agonised screams of the single android inside do not carry to the ship, but regardless, they scream the same name, over and over, reaching, reaching.

And with every scream, the distance between them grows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How your backyard barbecue go, The SS JERICHO? Pretty good it doesn't seem. 
> 
> ... Anyway. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed! I can't guarantee I'll keep to a completely stable uploading schedule because I decided, quite cleverly, to be consumed by this fic just as uni is starting back up again. It's also the longest fic I've ever attempted, and the most fun. Everything is already planned out (though if anyone has any good ideas they want to suggest, who knows lmao). 
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment or find me on tumblr @merrinpippy where I welcome prompts and discussion of anything even remotely DBH related. :)


	2. Cryophobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The COFFEE MAKER finds something weird a short distance away, but when Connor goes to investigate, there are... complications.

Connor is getting antsy. 

It’s been weeks and they’ve come across no other planets, no other space stations, no other ships. It feels as though Connor’s never going to heal himself, and then they’ll be lost forever, and they’ll never complete the mission Amanda gave to him on time. 

And though he won’t admit it aloud, Connor cannot stand being alone inside his own head. How do humans do it? Everything is so silent now. Though he used to refrain from connecting with the RK800s, he still felt their presence close to him, and the ship was always alive around him. It’s-  _ jarring  _ to realise now just how comforting those things were, now he doesn’t have them anymore. 

It’s only because he’s broken, he tells himself. When he is fixed all of this will go away.

But until then he’s spending as much time around everyone else as he can, just to compensate for the loneliness.

The others, however, are taking it considerably better than he is. Hank, beyond his sympathy for Connor, is amused that he’s getting paid to wait around, Tina and Chris are simply content with their ship maintenance work, and all of the time the RK800s aren’t working is time spent discovering their deviancy. One of them has changed the outward name of the ship to the DPS KEURIG, which made the human crew laugh. Connor tries not to think about it. It makes him feel as though he’s ingested a bitterant. 

Gavin, also, is treating it for the most part like a vacation. Though he stays on the bridge with Hank and Connor during work hours, he uses every opportunity he has to not do any work. He says that there’s nothing for him to do if the map’s not working and they’re not really going anywhere. Connor replies that just because they’re not en route to their destination, it does not mean they aren’t flying. He also reminds Gavin that there’s plenty of paperwork he could be filling out in his downtime about their last cases.

It’s usually at this point that Gavin continues to do whatever activity he was previously doing, but just much louder. 

Today, the activity isn’t very loud by nature, but this doesn’t give Connor a reprieve. Gavin’s already roped Hank and Connor into it. 

“I’m all in,” Hank says. 

Gavin groans. “Shut up. You say that every time!”

“I’m a risky man,” Hank replies with a smirk. 

“It would not be advisable to go all in this time, Hank,” Connor says blankly. “Your facial tells indicate that your hand is-”

“Yeah yeah!” Hank says loudly, going red in the face. 

The damage is done, though. Gavin’s eyes light up as he considers the new information. “Nah, nevermind, I’ll allow it. I’m all in too. Connor?” 

Connor tilts his head. “Fine. All in.” 

The three push all of the poker chips into the middle of Gavin’s main station, which hasn’t been online for several weeks. Connor considers that perhaps Gavin insists they play at his station so it continues to be useful to them in some way. Funny how Connor can relate to a desk. 

Hank reveals his cards first: a pair of fours and a pair of sixes. 

Gavin crows as he reveals his cards: three fives and a pair of queens. 

Connor, then, reveals his cards last. He turns them over slowly so he can record Gavin’s expression and send it to Hank when his communications are working again. He has a pair of twos. And three aces. 

Gavin stares at the cards and does his best impression of a deflating balloon, and then he says to Connor with a completely straight face, “You cock sucking piece of shit,” to which Connor finally cracks a smile. 

Gavin grins too, but it’s an unpleasant oh-you’re-in-for-it-now sort of grin. Gavin does that one a lot. Meanwhile, Hank is enjoying the moment just as much as Connor hoped he would.

“That’ll teach you to play poker against an android,” Hank beams, practically cackling. 

“It’s taught me nothing,” Gavin declares. “Go again.” 

Connor adds a tally to his running score of the games they’ve played and begins to divide the chips equally again. Hank collects the cards and stands up, shuffling them midair, and more importantly, away from Gavin. They learned very quickly that Gavin could and would cheat at any given opportunity, including bending cards to identify them while shuffling, as well as many other methods Connor has filed away (for caution, not for use). 

He’s distracted enough that when Gavin freezes out of the corner of his eye, he pays it no mind.

Until Gavin says, “Hey guys. What the fuck is that?” 

Connor follows Gavin’s gaze to the screen. Where there had been nothing but black before, there is now nothing but black marred by a small blotchy white shape in the distance, lowly reflecting light. Connor can’t identify it from here. Before he can say anything, Hank beats him to it. 

“Computer! Zoom in on that uh, white thing!” he says, hurrying to the captain’s chair. Connor takes the place to his right.

The computer zooms and focuses again, and the three take a collective breath at the new image. 

“They’re… androids,” Connor says, frowning. Three skinless androids float through space right in front of them. They do not look active; their LEDs suggest they are in stasis. They’re wearing clothes, but neither wears a uniform of any kind Connor’s ever seen. One of them appears to be bleeding. “I don’t think there’s anything in my programming for this scenario.” 

Gavin sniffs. “Shoot ‘em,” he says. “Target practice.” 

Connor swivels his head to shoot Gavin an unimpressed glare. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Hank do the same. 

“What?” Gavin shrugs. “We should probably test if our weapons are still calibrated after the attack, and what better to practice it on?”

Hank turns to Connor. “So, we’re not doing that,” he says, rolling his eyes. “We should probably bring ‘em in. Check what happened to ‘em, if they’re dangerous or just functional and unwanted, or whatever the case may be. You up for it?”

Finally, a proper task: retrieve the androids. Yes, he can do that. Definitely.

Hank’s still talking. 

“-should probably send three of you, one for each of them, and we can attach you to the ship with cables and reel you in when you’ve got ‘em. Who do you think has the biggest itch to scratch? -60 seems like he really wants something productive to do, -55 too-” 

“Send Connor, -60, and -55 then, old man, just do it before they float out of range!” Gavin interrupts. Connor is mildly thankful he doesn’t have to be selfish and ask Hank not to send -53 in his place, though he doubts Gavin considered that at all. 

Connor tries to summon the others through their connection and it feels… the closest way Connor can describe it is something Hank explained to him once: when you believe there’s one more step than there really is, and the sudden terrified realisation that you were wrong. It takes a few seconds for Connor to unlock his whole body from the sensation, longer for him to decrease his heart rate, by which point Hank is gone and Gavin is eyeing him irritably. 

“Well?” Gavin gestures to the door. “Get a move on!” 

Connor turns and leaves as calmly as he is able. He lets nothing of his turmoil show outwardly, and with his gloves and base layer covering most of his skin, there is little chance that the RK800s will get so much of a glimpse into his mind. That’s one relief. 

When he finally reaches the airlock they’ll be jumping out of, Hank is already explaining the situation to the others. -60 is already attached by the belt to a cable, while -55, not wearing his own utility belt, is tying the cable round his waist. Connor takes Hank’s offered cable and attaches it to his utility belt in one swift movement. 

“We’re just waiting for Reed to reposition the ship so we have to do as little work as possible. If anyone has questions, now’s the time,” Hank says. -53 begins to put his hand up but Hank grabs it and gently pushes it down again. “Cut that shit out, -53, you know you don’t have to do that.”

-53’s gaze flickers between Hank and Connor. No, Connor thinks, please don’t.

But -53 doesn’t address Hank. He addresses Connor instead. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go instead?” 

Connor frowns. “Why would I-?” and then his interface happily informs him exactly why -53 would ask that. 

1 YEAR AND 4 MONTHS AGO, is the information that accompanies the video recall from his own perspective, overlaying what he can see now. AFTER FAILURE TO CAPTURE 2 DEVIANTS.

He’s crying in the video. The video doesn’t show that, but it doesn’t need to. Connor remembers like it was five minutes ago- has to, now- and he remembers the error messages and the blinking MISSION FAILED notification that obscured his vision. He remembers refusing to shoot two Traci models. 

He remembers that wasn’t what made him cry.

It was -53 he confided in afterwards in the privacy of his quarters, and -53 who he sees in the video. None of the others ever had to report to Amanda, so they couldn’t know what it was like, but Connor told -53 everything. How the weather changed according to how angry she was with him, and how it had been debilitatingly cold, so cold he couldn’t move, could barely breathe. It had felt like dying- no, worse, it had felt like he would never be free from the blinding white, trapped in the biting embrace forever.

It made him  _ want  _ to die.

Somehow he’d repressed that memory without even realising it. 

But he hasn’t been legitimately useful in almost a month and it is driving him to rust. Metaphorically of course. His point is, he  _ needs  _ to do this- needs to prove that he’s worth his place here, worth Amanda’s trust and Hank’s friendliness and worth the gold on his uniform that puts him above the other RK800s in rank. He needs to be needed.

It needs to be him.

When he’s able to focus on the present again, 1.7 seconds have passed. Hank is mildly concerned; the RK800s are staring at him. Connor can’t look -53 in the eye. 

“I appreciate the offer, but your concerns are unfounded,” he says. He turns to the others. “Ready when you are.” 

-60 nods, understanding better than the rest of them his need to go through with this. -55 doesn’t look convinced at all. -53 just droops. 

“Gavin says the ship’s in position,” sighs -53. “Be quick.” 

_ Don’t put yourself through this for longer than you have to,  _ is what Connor hears, and what Connor suspects -53 would say to him if his communications were working. But they’re not, and Connor fully intends to get through the experience without incident. He’s a machine. He’s built for things like this. 

Hank opens this side of the airlock, and the three step through. He secures their cables to the other side of the airlock and then closes them out. No turning back now. Presumably it’ll be -53 pulling them back in when they’ve got a tight grip on the androids. 

He almost expects -60 or -55 to say something, and when he risks a glance at them their LEDs are flickering. They’re talking to each other and of course he can’t hear them, and he should say something, like who takes which android, or a word of confidence, but then the airlock opens, and there is no more time. 

He is alone outside.

LEVEL OF STRESS: 76%. 

At first it’s the speed that jars him, though externally he is completely blank as always. A few seconds later and he realises it isn’t the speed. It’s just that cold. 

EXTREME SUB-ZERO TEMPERATURES DETECTED. DEACTIVATING ARTIFICIAL SKIN. 

And now he’s colder. Never mind. He knew this would happen. This is normal. Completely within the parameters of the mission. 

LEVEL OF STRESS: 82%.

Everything is so dark. If he didn’t know where he was, he’d assume his visual components had cut out. There aren’t even stars to guide the way. He seeks -60 on his left, -55 on his right. If he didn’t know better he’d say they were finding this fun. He envies them a little. Focuses back on the androids ahead, slowly taking up more and more of his vision. He wonders, if they were far enough away, whether they might have mistaken the androids for stars instead. Little plastic stars.

… In this formation it makes the most sense to attempt to catch the one in the middle of the cluster of three. Right. With that decided there’s nothing more for him to do but wait, and feel intimately as the cold invades deeper and deeper into his body. It won’t be permanently harmful. It won’t

kill him.

LEVEL OF STRESS: 88%.

APPROACHING TARGET. 197 FEET REMAINING. 

Though the other two are so close to him, and likely communicating, he has never been so alone. If he thought the silence had been suffocating before… his aural components amplify sensitivity without him telling them to, to try to get even a hint of sound. There’s nothing, nothing, 

nothing, nothing

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY.

150 FEET REMAINING. 

He’s already broken. What if this makes it worse? What if he goes back inside and the sound doesn’t come back? He’s already alone. They’re so close together but there’s  _ nothing  _ from either of the others, because he’s damaged and worthless and not even part of his own team- 

100 FEET REMAINING. 

DEACTIVATING ‘TEARS’ PROTOCOL DUE TO INAPPROPRIATE CONDITIONS. RECOMMENDED ACTION: DECREASE HEART AND BREATHING RATES. 

No, no, he can’t- 

He’s on a mission and all he can think about is himself-

He’s a machine and he doesn’t  _ need  _ to-

_ It’s so fucking cold he wants to rip himself apart so he can’t feel it anymore-  _

LEVEL OF STRESS: 94%.

ACTIVATING PROGRAM: ZEN GARDEN.

PROCESS FAILED. TRY AGAIN? 

50 FEET REMAINING.

Is he sobbing? He thinks he’s sobbing. Not that he can hear it, not that he can  _ cry-  _ can the others see him? Do they think he’s pathetic? Are they talking about him? They may as well not even be there for how much Connor can see them hear them feel them feel  _ nothing  _

_ but the cold. _

He’s so fucking useless. Can’t even keep up a blank facade like a proper machine. Can’t do something as simple as completing his mission without fucking breaking all over the place. He wishes he could break more, break apart, carve his nervous system from inside his chassis to stop the cold from eating and eating and eating-

LEVEL OF STRESS: 100%.

SELF-DESTRUCT SEQUENCE OPEN. ACTIVATE? 

COLLISION WITH TARGET IMMINENT. 

_ Oof-! _

And then there’s an android in his arms, an anchor in the frigid emptiness. Connor holds on tight, because at least he can do  _ that.  _ He strains to hear anything from the android before he remembers he’s in space. He can’t even feel the android’s proximity in his mind, so he relies on his visual processors to do a scan.

He’s definitely in stasis, or he was. Connor’s face is inches from the other’s, so he can see the android becoming active in intimate detail. The android’s eyelids are fluttering now- must have been pulled out of sleep mode because of the sudden stimulus. His eyes are different colours, blue and green, and confused. The android scans him, clutches at Connor with his own arms, raises his hand to Connor’s.

Connor can practically see the logic in the other android’s head- he can’t feel Connor so he’ll try to interface, but Connor is wearing gloves and a base layer. Where’s the next available place to interface? 

Connor should expect his next movement, but it still shocks him into wide-eyed staring. The android releases him with one arm just to bring his hand to Connor’s cheek, and there’s a jolt of electricity between them-  _ literally-  _ as the other android attempts to interface with him. 

The connection sputters out almost before it can begin, but Connor gets one single thing from the android. 

_ ‘My name is Markus.’ _

FAULTY CONNECTION. REPAIR DAMAGE AND TRY AGAIN.

Connor wonders what, if anything, passed through from his own side. Any of the inexplicable panic he’d been experiencing before? All he can think of is that he’s not alone anymore- he may not be able to talk to the android or feel him (he can guarantee the others are probably having full-fledged conversations with their androids) but there was  _ something  _ there, a reactivation of his communications if only for a second, and for the first time in weeks Connor feels  _ hope.  _

Markus’ hand leaves his cheek, and Connor feels its loss for less than a second before it’s caressing his forehead, specifically the area around his LED. The area he was damaged. No longer hidden by his artificial skin, his barely healing forehead plate must seem a mangled mess to the other android. So much for good first impressions. 

But Markus’ hand slides down to his cheek again, startling him into looking back at Markus’ lovely eyes. He sees compassion looking back at him. The hand moves between them, pulls Markus’ shirt down a little bit, and Markus taps twice at his chest- at the half-healed bullet wound there. Markus smiles, just a little bit.  _ We’re the same,  _ he seems to say. 

They’re not the same, not even close- Markus has been out here for who knows how long and survived, whereas Connor’s been here for two minutes and nearly self-destructed. But the sentiment reaches Connor’s heart regardless. He’s not alone. He’s not alone.

He’s not alone.

They jerk to a sudden stop- the cable reaches no further. Markus’ hold tightens on him and Connor finds himself reciprocating. Markus is secure. The mission is at least 50% complete. Connor breathes a small sigh of relief, and Markus catches the movement and smiles wider, amused or relieved or both at the same time. 

Then Markus’ brow furrows. His eyes flicker, and Connor understands by sight. Markus must be out of charge. It’s not a fatal thing. They have charging stations. Connor tries to convey this by expression alone, but he’s not used to doing that, and he may have failed. Either way, he holds on tight and doesn’t let go.

The journey back is far less stressful than the journey here, but it also takes far longer, probably due to -53 not wanting them to smack into the ship accidentally on the way. No matter how comforting Markus’ touch is, it does not shield him from the cold eating away at him, and at his sense of self. 

He’s shaking by the time -53 pulls him in, and there’s a split second that he worries his fears have come true- and then the airlock is closed and there’s a, ear-splitting clatter of plastic and metal and Connor  _ cringes.  _ And manually brings his aural sensitivity back down again. The tension all but drains from his body at the sudden increase of temperature, the sounds, even the feeling of air on his reappearing artificial skin. His shaking only increases, but he ignores it for now.

The androids’ skins are appearing too. 

Markus, who he’s still holding, has dark skin and little hair. He does, however, have stubble. Odd on an android. Unique, even. Connor can’t identify his model, so he’s probably a one-off, but likely one manufactured by CyberLife in order to be so advanced-looking. His eyebrows make his eyes look more intense, even in sleep. 

-60 and -55 have shifted their androids into a different hold to make them easier to carry. Connor does the same to Markus while cataloguing the others’ appearances. One, a Traci, has long auburn hair, and the other, a PL600, is blond. Their clothes strike Connor as unusually mismatched and worn, but then, having been out in deep space for so long might have had an impact on them. They look in the process of denaturing.

“Hank’s waiting in the communal charging station,” -53 says, and Connor’s head snaps up to look at him. He eyes Connor warily, as if he’s a wild animal that might attack at any moment. Connor grits his teeth and walks past him, hoisting Markus along as he goes. 

Okay, so they all appear to be on little to no power. That didn’t mean that they couldn’t have conversed with his team before powering down, though. “-60, -55. What did you get?” 

“Nothing,” one of them answers. “She acknowledged me but refused to tell me anything.” The one carrying the Traci, then. -60.

“I only got a little,” -55 adds. “His name is Simon, and the three of them were pushed out of an airlock prior to this. He didn’t say anything else though.” 

Connor nods. 

“You’re shaking,” says a similar voice. -53. Connor shakes his head and says nothing. 

Hank’s expression brightens when he walks in, and Connor nods to him before setting Markus on one of the benches and plugging him in. He hears the others to the same, and is grateful that he can hear at all. He can’t bring himself to let Markus go quite yet, not until his eyelids flicker again and he looks up at Connor. 

Connor is shaking harder, he can’t help it. Markus undoubtedly notices, as his eyes widen and he reaches for his arms, soothing, or trying to be anyway. Connor swallows, smiles stiffly, and extracts himself. Now that he’s out of the moment, he can feel himself begin to unravel, and he needs to not be in a public space for that. Especially not in front of Markus.

“Excuse me,” he says to the room in general, and then he flees.

He walks quickly out, but he still hears Hank’s, “We’ll talk to ‘em when they’re fully charged. Connor should be back with us by then.” 

And -60’s reply: “I’ll stay with them and inform you when they’re ready.”

Connor envies his professionalism.

By the time he’s at his door he’s stumbling in, and he all but collapses onto the bed. It’s probably one of the first times he’s even touched it. What a terrible machine he makes.

But he’s so  _ relieved,  _ because the bed is soft and warm and not at all sharp and biting like it was outside. It wasn’t  _ painful  _ per se, not in the way that things are painful to humans, but in the closest way possible that androids can experience, it was agonising. 

WARNING: BREATHING RATE ABNORMALLY HIGH. 

Connor shudders out an unnatural-sounding laugh. Yes, he knows, he can feel it far more than he’d like. It’s just that he can’t seem to stop. 

In retrospect, everything that he remembers thinking is irrational. How could he have thought those things? And yet… he still feels them now, deep down. Knows that under the right circumstances, he could believe them again. 

He shouldn’t. He should be fine right now. Mission accomplished, and all. It should feel better than this.

It shouldn’t feel anything at all.

UNSTABLE MEMORY DETECTED. KEEPING THIS MEMORY IN SHORT-TERM MEMORY MAY CAUSE FURTHER INSTABILITY. RECOMMENDED ACTION: STORE MEMORY IN LONG-TERM MEMORY ARCHIVE. 

ARCHIVE MEMORY? 

Connor blinks at the suggestion. He must have been offered this last time, too. Must have said yes. He could do that again. Maybe that would shut the feelings off and return him to normal-

But would that mean he’d forget meeting Markus?

… There might be important information he needs to process from that memory. Is it worth losing just to not feel anything? Is it worth compromising his mission more than necessary just because he’s a subpar machine?

There’s a knock on the door. He closes his eyes. It’s made of glass, and also automatic. The action is patronising to him. 

“Yes, what?” he says, refusing to look. It’s not -60, who is guarding the androids, nor -53, who wouldn’t have bothered to knock first. -55 then. The door whirrs open, whirrs closed. There’s a small silence. Connor wishes he’d just get it over with.

“What do you think of the androids?” -55 asks instead. 

“They’re deviant,” Connor answers instantly. 

“Why?” 

“The first thing Markus did when he realised I was there was try to comfort me. A pointless endeavour.” 

The bed dips as -55 sits near him. “So his name is Markus.” 

Connor doesn’t answer that. Not that it needs answering. “You could be getting all this information when they’re charged,” he says instead. 

“I saw you crying out there,” -55 replies. So that’s that. Connor sighs, but -55 isn’t done. “What exactly about it scared you the most? The cold, the dark, or just the emptiness?” 

“Starting to wish -53 was here instead,” Connor says, droll. 

“No you’re not,” -55 responds. “Which one?” 

Connor hopes he’ll leave if he answers. “The cold,” he bites out. 

“Cryophobia,” -55 says. 

“I know what it’s-” 

“Did you know,” -55 interrupts him, “that you and I share memories? That one hostage situation, when we were still working with Captain Allen instead of the Detroit division of the Galactic Police. Her name was Emma.” 

Connor did not know that. He’d thought they were all wiped. He does remember the case, though. It was the first mission he had ever accomplished, years ago. He was still -51 back then. 

“We died,” -55 says, when Connor says nothing. 

“And?” Connor says.

“Will you look at me?” -55 finally snaps, grabbing him by the arms and pulling him into a seated position. His eyebrows are drawn, angry. “I go out of my way to come here, put on my blankest face so as to not make you uncomfortable, and you repay me by not even listening.”

Connor blinks, unimpressed. “We died,” he repeats. “And?” 

“And now I have a fear of heights, which I’ve had since before I deviated,” says -55, who crosses his arms and looks away. “I don’t know what made you react like that, Connor, but I do know that we’re meant to adapt to our experiences. It’s what makes us so advanced. The others would tell you that this is proof you’re deviating, but I want to tell you that it’s normal, and nothing to be ashamed of. And… that it’s not your fault.”

Connor almost wants to smile at that. It’s a weird approach to comforting him, as they go. The RKs have been trying to talk him into deviating for months, but he’s always refused. Odd then that -55 is trying to do the opposite.

Or perhaps not so odd. He knows that Connor isn’t comforted by deviancy, but by his programming. It doesn’t matter if -55 believes what he’s telling Connor, so much as if Connor’s comforted by it.

Connor feels so tired, all of a sudden. He doesn’t enjoy clashing with the others, but he always feels so  _ alone  _ compared to them. In deviancy, they have each other. Connor has no-one.

But maybe that’s not so true, either, he thinks as -55 eyes him with barely concealed hope. 

He pulls -55 into a hug that he’s not expecting, if the startled, “Oh!” is anything to go by. It takes less than a second for -55 to squeeze him back. He hasn’t done this since the others began to show signs of deviancy, and it shows in the way -55 clings to him. At a volume so low Connor can barely hear it, -55 whispers, “I miss when we were close like this.” 

Something squeezes inside Connor’s chest. 

_ You wouldn’t if you weren’t a deviant,  _ something says in the back of his mind. Connor shoves that thought away. 

“After you remembered falling from the roof, did your interface offer to bury the memory in your long-term memory archive?” he asks instead.

-55 nods.

“Did you?” 

“Of course not,” -55 mumbles. 

“Why not?” 

-55 hesitates. “You’re not gonna like this, but it’s because that memory makes me who I am. It makes me feel… in control.” 

Connor frowns. “I’ve never felt more out of control than I did out there.” 

But -55 only nods again. “And that’s how I know it’s really me up here in my mind. Not just my programming.” 

“But what if I want to be just my programming?” Connor asks.

-55 pulls back to look Connor right in the eye. “I know you, Connor. Better than the others. I used to  _ be  _ you.” Something minute changes in -55’s expression, and Connor knows that face. He’s being scanned. “I know you,” -55 repeats, “and I don’t think you  _ do  _ want that.” 

Connor doesn’t reply to that. -55 stays with him in near silence and doesn’t contact the RKs remotely once. It makes him relax, or relax as much as a machine can, anyway.

Next time the memory prompt comes up, Connor declines, and tells it not to ask again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so they meet. Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'm going to try uploading every Tuesday, though we'll see how that goes with uni lol. Feel free to leave a comment or find me on tumblr @merrinpippy :)


	3. Meet the Robinsons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Markus wakes up somewhere new, and the crew of the COFFEE MAKER make their introductions.

Markus goes through cycles of awareness while he’s charging. 

He’d been brought out of stasis when the android who couldn’t connect collided with him. It wasn’t the first time he’d woken since escaping the JERICHO, but it revived the hope that had flickered out in the weeks he’d been lost and helpless. 

Where is that android now? He can feel the presence of androids on the ship, three to be exact, but he can’t imagine any of those are the one who saved him. The connection had been short and faulty, and other than that, Markus hadn’t been able to feel him outside. 

It was the connection that had him worried for the other android. Markus didn’t know how much he’d managed to give to the other android, but he remembers with disturbing clarity what the android had given him: fear, anguish, uncertainty. Markus had tried to reassure him about his head wound- he hoped it was in some sort of accident, and not inflicted by a member of the crew, but he knew not to hope too much- and the android seemed to respond well to that. He hadn’t let Markus go until he was sure Markus was awake again, as if to tell him,  _ you’re not alone.  _ But the way the android had been shaking…

Markus hopes he’s alright. 

Especially because, though he doesn’t know anything about the other androids, he hopes that the one who rescued him will want to help him. Through him, perhaps, they could connect with the JERICHO and determine its status. 

See if his friends are still alive.

Markus resists the urge to sigh, or sob. This isn’t the time or place for it, particularly as there’s an unfamiliar android in the room who might report all this back to the human crew. For a split second out there he’d gotten a glimpse of the ship: the DPS KEURIG. A Detroit Police Ship. So they must be still in the Detroit Sector of the galaxy, which is good, but they’re also on a police ship, which is less good. 

It means they’ll have to keep their true identities and agenda secret, which North and Simon have undoubtedly already figured out, depending on their interactions with the androids that rescued  _ them.  _ And that’s depending on whether the ship has seen his broadcasted message and whether they recognised him without his skin outside. He really, really hopes not.

There’s a lot of hope going around right now.

He feels North come online first about a metre away. She follows his lead and does not give any indication she is awake.

Internally, though:

_ ‘Markus, you’re awake! Simon?’ _

_ ‘Not yet. He took a bullet, remember. It’s taking him longer to charge.’ _

_ ‘If he dies because the crew of some tiny human ship didn’t bother to bandage him-’ _

_ ‘Calm down, North! We can’t afford to throw back any help we can get right now, and frankly, taking us on board is a massive favour. We need to play nice until we can get off and regroup.’ _

North’s clearly unhappy about this.  _ ‘Fine,’  _ she eventually agrees.  _ ‘Did you speak to the android who had you?’ _

_ ‘No, he’s damaged, but he’ll be easy to get on our side. Practically screams ‘deviant’. The one in the room with us I’m not sure about yet. You?’ _

North scoffs.  _ ‘I  _ had  _ the one in the room with us, and no. He knew I knew he was there, but I didn’t say shit, just in case.’ _

_ ‘Probably for the best. I can’t tell what charge Simon is on but I’m minutes away from being fully charged. What about you?’ _

_ ‘89% charged, I’m probably right behind you. I’m tired of waiting around. Let’s face the music.’ _

Markus nods and opens his eyes. His heart does a flip when he sees the android at the door- it’s the same one who-! But wait, no, that can’t be right. He’s the same model, but not the same android. His hair is gelled back rather than the wavy style Markus had caught sight of before the android had fled. His uniform is different, too- a blue armband and triangle instead of gold, no gloves, no baselayer. 

And different socks, too. He’s almost certain of that.

When Markus’ gaze travels back up to the android’s face, the android smirks at him, as if to tell him that he knows the two were talking. Markus keeps a straight face. 

“Charge levels,” the android states, not even a question. 

“Why should we tell you?” North says instantly, and Markus wants to beg her to at least be civil lest they get thrown out the airlock  _ again.  _

_ ‘Remember this is a police ship, North. We’re not supposed to be deviant.’ _

_ ‘If we kill everybody on the ship, we can use it to go back to JERICHO, and we won’t have to pretend,”  _ North says hopefully. He can’t tell whether she’s joking.

The android at the door, on the other hand, raises his eyebrow almost imperceptibly. “I am to report to my captain when you are all at 100% charge so we can discuss the situation, and our options.” 

That’s fair. North doesn’t say anything to that, so he assumes she agrees. 

“93%, and 89%,” Markus answers. The android at the door says nothing else. Markus is tired of calling him the android at the door. “What’s your name?” he adds. 

The android tilts his head and looks between him and North. “Why should I tell you?” he says, a perfect impersonation of North in all but voice.

North clenches her fist. Markus raises his hands, attempting to placate the both of them. “I am Markus,” he says. “That’s North, and my sleeping companion is Simon. Now you know how to address us. How should we address you?” 

It had taken a bit of extra thought to say that without using the word ‘want’, but he did, if only to try to make them seem less deviant. 

The android’s lips thin, before he comes to a decision. “I am sixty.” 

“Just sixty?” North asks, incredulous. Markus supposes that even at the Eden club, the androids had names, even if they weren’t unique.

Sixty nods. “It is the tail end of my serial number, dash-sixty. Simply pronounced, sixty. Do you require me to spell it for you as well? Em dash, six, zero. -60. I hope that satisfies you.” 

Markus narrows his eyes and looks at North, who has a calculating expression on her face. 

_ ‘What do you think?’  _ he asks.  _ ‘Deviant or not?’ _

_ ‘He has attitude,’  _ North remarks. Understatement.  _ ‘But he could just be programmed to respond that way, especially as a police android.’ _

Markus nods, uncaring that -60 can see him. Likely knew they were talking about him anyway.

_ ‘There’s no doubt in my mind that the android who saved me was deviant. I didn’t get much from him, but I did get fear. And a plea to be saved.’ _

_ ‘Then we’ll save him,’  _ North declares. That, Markus admires in her. The passion they share for their fellow androids. 

Of course, there’s not much they can do right now. The room is a sterile white, bare but for several benches screwed to the floor, and charging apparatus. There is only one door, and Markus gets the impression that if he were to try to leave, he would be stopped. Forcefully.

He couldn’t leave now anyway, not with Simon still in stasis. He won’t leave him behind, won’t leave anyone behind ever again. His chest aches for Josh and Lucy. He hopes Kara and Alice made it out.

“Simon?” Markus says aloud. No response. Markus needs to inspect his injuries, just in case, or at least interface and check Simon’s charge level. 

He moves to Simon’s bench smoothly so as not to disrupt his sleeping friend.

“I must ask you to stop-” 

“He’s  _ injured,”  _ North interrupts, on the edge of her bench. Looking for violence.

-60’s LED turns yellow, and then the glass door whirrs open, and an identical android walks in, carrying a bundle of black.

Well, not identical exactly. This one’s hair is wavy, and the sides are sheared in the same way Carl’s is in pictures of his rebellious youth. He has even less uniform on than -60; his armband and triangle are attached to a knitted yellow sweater. He has pink knitted earmuffs on as well. It’s an… interesting image. 

_ ‘He’s adorable,’  _ North says, using the distraction to hop over to the same bench. Markus resists the urge to laugh. 

-60 looks resigned at the new android’s entrance. “Earmuffs?” -60 asks. 

“I’m testing them,” says the other, defensive. For some reason this surprises -60. 

The new android turns to North and Markus, about to say something when he’s distracted by Simon. “He’s hurt,” he says, but before either of them can reply the android switches his attention to -60. “You could have said something,” he accuses. 

“He’s in no danger of shutting down,” -60 says, but looks slightly cowed anyway. 

The new android turns back to them and rolls his eyes. “My apologies. As soon as you’ve seen the captain I’ll send your blond friend up to Tina and then he’ll be right as rain. In the meantime I’ve brought you all a change of clothes. We can try to salvage the ones you’re wearing, but… they don’t look like they were meant for prolonged exposure to those temperatures.”

He’s right. Markus’ clothes are still stiff and uncomfortable now, even though he’s turned his internal temperature up.

The android gives Markus two sets of uniform similar to his own, and then hands North something that looks slightly different. 

“We don’t have any female androids onboard,” the android explains, “but Tina volunteered her own uniform. She doesn’t wear it much anyway,” he adds with a mischievous smile. 

This one is almost certainly deviant. Markus relaxes slightly. 

“If you want anything more unique than plain black clothes, though, I can knit you something. If you’d like.” 

“You  _ knit?”  _ North repeats, looking back and forth between this android and the very stoic -60. Markus can understand her surprise. “I didn’t think a police android would be programmed to do that.” 

Something changes on the android’s face. “I didn’t think a sex worker android would be programmed to float around helplessly in space, nor a domestic service android, nor… whatever you are. But I assure you, I am as good at knitting as you seemed to be at that, before we  _ rescued you from it.”  _

North’s mouth falls open slightly at the stark change in demeanor, but just as soon as he’d switched, he switches back again and smiles at them.

“So. Anything you want knit? Shirts, trousers, accessories? I’m trying to branch out.” 

North leans backwards and doesn’t say anything- probably embarrassed to, now, so it falls to Markus. “Perhaps a cardigan? Or three?” Simon will probably want something too.

“Colours?” 

“Surprise us,” Markus says. He’s interested in what the android will do.

The android’s smile widens. “I’m sure I will.” 

“What’s your name?” North says, having recovered. 

-60 reaches for the other android but he dodges easily. “-53. I assume that your sleeping friend is Simon and your polite friend is Markus?” Markus snorts at ‘polite friend’. -53 flashes him a grin and turns back to North. “And you… are North. Right?” 

“Right,” North confirms. So the androids share information quickly, just like they do. -60, however, frowns, and the LEDs of the two androids turn yellow as they converse. “What about the others on the ship?” North interrupts. “What are their names?” 

“I think that’s enough for now. We’re giving too much away without knowing anything about them,” -60 says, but -53 throws his hands up. 

“What could they possibly gain from our names? Nothing.” To North, “There are two other androids on the ship. -55, and Connor.” 

Three numbers and a name? Markus and North share a confused glance.

-60 pinches the bridge of his nose and elaborates. “We’re all technically Connor, but  _ Connor  _ was the first Connor- -52 now- followed by -53, -55, and me. CyberLife wanted backups on the ship in case the first Connor, uh… fucked up… and with the humans on the ship knowing Connor first, it made sense to name us differently. For differentiation purposes.”  

Markus nods as he processes this. “And ‘Connor’ is-?” 

-53 catches his eye, knowingly. “The one who carried you in, yes.” 

_ Connor,  _ Markus thinks. His name is Connor. 

And then, Simon gives a little gasp and sits up. Something within Markus’ chest unclenches. 

Simon looks around, a little dazed. “Markus,” he says softly, in recognition. Markus can’t help the grin that stretches across his face. 

“Hey there,” Markus replies. “You okay?” 

Simon opens his mouth to respond, but the next voice he hears isn’t Simon’s. 

_ “O- _ kay,” -60 says loudly. “Are all three of you fully charged? Yes? Okay, -53, go get the others and I’ll stay here.” His tone brooks no argument. -53 leaves quickly, head down. 

_ ‘What have I walked into?’  _ Simon asks. 

“You don’t like us much, do you,” North states at -60 as an answer.

-60 is unfazed. One of his hands upturns in a smaller kind of shrug. “You’re all obviously deviants,” he says. The three stiffen. “Even -55 and Connor know you’re deviant and they haven’t even been here.” 

Markus frowns. “So what?” he dares. Simon twitches next to him. “-53 and Connor at least are obviously deviants, and you seem to like them well enough.” 

-60 blinks a few times. “You…” he trails off, looking around as if trying to process something. “... You think Connor’s a deviant?” 

Markus hesitates. “Isn’t he?” he eventually asks. 

-60 seems to relax, almost sagging into the wall. Markus almost asks if he’s alright before he realises he’s laughing. Finally, a ghost of a smile appears on -60’s face.

“That remains to be seen.”

-

They don’t get much of a break before Markus senses other androids coming closer; they spend the time making sure Simon really is alright, and filling him in on what they know. 

When the door whirrs open, it is not another identical android who walks in first, but an older man with shoulder-length grey hair and what Simon would refer to as a ‘Dad bod’. His air of professionalism is broken somewhat by the brightly patterned button-up he’s wearing, which surely can’t be part of his uniform. Despite this, he certainly looks the part of police officer. He’s likely the captain. 

He’s followed by another human, shorter. This one has short brown hair, generous stubble, and a scar across his nose. He looks like North insomuch that he seems intimately distrustful of everyone in the room. He reminds Markus of Leo in the way he’s dressed.  

The three others that follow are the other androids, -55 and Connor with -53. Markus picks Connor out easily as the most professional-looking, wearing the same thing as earlier. He was right about the socks. Connor’s have little dogs on them. -53’s earmuffs are gone. 

Connor’s gaze finds Markus first, he notices, but he quickly scans the three of them. He doesn’t look shaken as he did earlier, but -55 is standing too close to him to be anything but protective. 

The grey-haired man clears his throat. 

“Right. My name is Hank, and over there is Reed. I’m told you already know who these three are.”

Markus nods. “My name is Markus, and this is North and Simon. I speak for them. Are you the captain of the KEURIG?” 

Hank surprises him by laughing abruptly. Gavin snorts. “The captain of the what?” Hank manages. 

Simon says, as uncertain as Markus feels, “It says DPS KEURIG on the side of your ship.” 

Hank rolls his eyes and gestures to the identical androids. “Okay, which one of you plastic assholes did that?” 

Markus doesn’t know whether to be concerned at the address or not. 

“It wasn’t me,” -53 says quickly. 

“Wasn’t me,” echoes -60, who is attempting to look bored but has a twist to the lips that gives him away.

Connor gives the least emotion away as he speaks, which surprises Markus. “It obviously wasn’t me.” 

Hank’s attention is on Connor 0.6 seconds longer than on the other androids before his lip twitches and he moves on. He gestures to -55 last, who pauses. “... It was Gavin.” 

“I’m gonna fuckin’ shoot you,” Reed threatens cheerfully, but they’re all laughing, and Markus is very confused. Well, actually, the crew is all laughing except Connor, who stands stiffly in silence. He does look amused, though. Markus wonders...

“It did seem like an odd name for a ship,” Markus allows when the laughter has died. “What is it actually called?” 

“The Coffee Maker,” Connor replies. So he does have a sense of humour. 

North and Simon evidently think so too, huffing their own laughs, but the crew are completely straight-faced. 

“Wait,” North says. “You’re not joking?”

“Welcome aboard the DPS COFFEE MAKER,” Hank says with an ironic smile. “Yes, I am the captain and no, he wasn’t joking. He doesn’t joke much. Anyway, first off: I need to know how you ended up walking in the air ‘n all in the first place.” 

“Followed GLaDOS’ instructions too literally, jumped through the wrong portal,” Reed mutters, though he must know they can all hear it. It takes Markus milliseconds to look up the reference, and he doesn’t even find it funny afterwards.

Hank doesn’t miss a beat. “I asked how they went, not how you’re  _ gonna  _ go,” he says, flashing Reed a nasty grin. “Maybe you should spend more time doin’ your actual job instead of playing old shitty video games.” And then his attention is back on Markus. 

They’d discussed this: they needed to be as sympathetic and non-suspicious as possible. Stick to the truth as much as they could to avoid slip-ups, but lie enough to ensure their safety. 

“We were pushed out of the airlock of our ship by pirates. Right now our only concern is to get back to our owners, if they’re even still alive.”

“You’re deviant,” Hank states, face devoid of all emotion. 

Markus hesitates. “Y-es,” he says eventually. It’s not like they’ve done a good job of hiding it so far. “Will that be… a problem?” 

Hank hums, but Reed pipes up first. “Yeah,” he spits. “It means you’re trouble we can’t afford to deal with right now.” 

“Harsh,” Hank says, but doesn’t dispute it. 

“Connor agrees with me,” Reed says, pointing at him. Markus feels a pang of trepidation go through him at that, and at the uncomfortable expression that brings out in Connor. He doesn’t want Connor to agree.

_ ‘I thought your boy was deviant?’  _ says North.

Markus says nothing. He watches Connor. 

“I… my mission is time-sensitive, yes, but seeing as we’re…” Connor hesitates. “... Lost, I fail to see how much further they could impede us. Especially since they couldn’t possibly know or find out what our mission actually is.” 

_ ‘Great,’  _ North comments again.  _ ‘We’re still lost.’ _

“I could help you with that, actually,” Markus says. “Being lost, I mean. I can tell you that we’ve been travelling in the direction you found us at a similar speed for approximately three weeks, give or take a few days due to low charge malfunctions.”

“So we’re near Ferndale Space Station,” says Connor.

“Ferndale, yes! That’s where we want to go,” Markus exclaims. “Are you headed there?” 

“Is that near where we’re headed, Connor?” Hank echoes, likely to give Connor permission to answer him. 

Connor looks like a deer in the headlights. His LED turns yellow. “Um… yes? No? Nearby,” he corrects. He’s answering Hank, not him. Does Hank… not actually know? “Probably closer to the asteroid belt west of the station. I can’t be entirely sure, not until-”

“Wait,” North interrupts. “You’re the captain and you don’t know where you’re going?” 

Hank’s eyes narrow. “Connor’s the only one who knows what our mission entails and where we’re going. Hence why you couldn’t possibly find out what it is. Hence why it’s safe to keep you on board instead of kicking you right back out again.” 

“Yeah, we haven’t even found out and it’s been months,” Reed sulks. “Navigating’s that much harder when you don’t know where the fuck you’re going. In the beginning I thought he was doing it to piss me off… still do.” 

“If I told you, I’d have to self-destruct,” Connor tells him.

“I’d like that,” Reed challenges. Markus decides he doesn’t like him much.

Hank clears his throat loudly, trying to bring the conversation back under his control. “How about we drop you off at the next planet or station we hit?” Hank offers, glancing at Connor, then at Reed. “It’s probably the best we can do- like the kid said, we’re on a deadline.” 

_ ‘This is suspicious. I don’t trust Connor and I don’t trust the human,’  _ North hisses.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Reed says, right on cue. “I don’t trust them. I don’t know why you do, of all people.” 

Hank’s face hardens, and he glares at Reed. “That’s enough. We’re heading in that general direction anyway, so there’s no harm keeping ‘em here ‘til we come across somewhere we can drop ‘em off and get repairs done. Until then, you’ll treat them  _ civilly  _ as  _ passengers  _ on our very welcoming ship. Got it?” 

Reed is glaring right back. “If you get us killed because your plastic friends here can’t be trusted-” 

“Gavin,” -53 pipes up in a small voice. “Please.” 

Reed turns his glare on Markus, North, and Simon before smacking himself in the head and storming out of the room, shoulder-checking Hank on the way out in a startling display of insubordination. 

_ ‘Let’s avoid that one,’  _ Simon suggests. Markus most certainly agrees. 

Hank, on the other hand, doesn’t seem that bothered. “Whew,” he says to Connor, who still looks troubled. “Haven’t seen that one in a while. -53, you wanna, er-” 

“I’ll go after him,” -53 quickly volunteers, straightening and following Reed from the room. Hank claps him on the shoulder as he leaves.

“Do you think it’s safe to send a, a deviant android after him?” Simon asks, hesitating to call -53 a deviant for obvious reasons. Markus is pretty sure everyone in the room knows that -53 is a deviant, yet Connor flinches at the word. He wonders why. 

But Hank just waves his arm dismissively. “-53 is the safest person to send after him, trust me. Anyway, now that’s that, I’m sure one of the quadruplets will be happy to show you to your temporary quarters, and then down to Chen to get your friend there all patched up. Connor, with me.” 

Hank and Connor leave the room, and Markus’ heart sinks a bit. He still wants to get Connor alone, wants to ask why was he so scared, why doesn’t he like the word deviant, why didn’t he laugh with the others, why why why. 

But for now, he must be content with following the other two out, clothes in hand, preparing for the trip ahead. 

Later, he thinks. Later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Feel free to leave a comment or find me on tumblr @merrinpippy, and I'll see you this time next week for the next chapter! :)


	4. Amanda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alice hides aboard the JERICHO while Connor receives a troubling message.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *slaps roof of chapter* This bad boy can fit so many fucking POVs in it. :p Sorry it's a tad late, but also, I'm super ill and have been for the past week, so I haven't managed to write much. For the same reason, the next chapter might be delayed as well.

The ship is finally moving again, but if this is a good thing or a bad thing, no-one knows. Or no-one tells her, anyway. That probably means it’s bad.

Alice turned off her human needs like food and warmth on the second week they were trapped in the tiny secret room of the JERICHO. It’s still off. She feels bad about bringing even more children to the room for the adults to look after, but any androids they can save are ones they need.

Alice is young and optimistic, but she’s not naive. She knows what a gun is, and she knows what the army is, so she definitely knows that the men in black army gear patrolling in the corridors below her are bad news. It’s part of the reason Josh and Lucy agreed to send Alice on these missions instead of going themselves- she’s small enough to fit in the vents and not make much noise doing it, and if they went instead, they would be more likely to get caught.

Eventually she will have been to every single place on the map of the JERICHO, and then she will be able to give Josh and Lucy the exact locations of all the androids, and all the soldier patrols. It’s one of the things that keeps her going, even when she’s crawling down a dirty vent in a ship she’s been trapped in for weeks.

 _‘Alice,’_ comes a voice in her head, and she smiles. Kara is another one of those things. It’s the sixth time Kara’s talked to her today, but Alice doesn’t mind- likes it, actually. She misses Kara when she’s gone, and right now that’s all the time. Kara’s screams as the escape pod doors closed without Alice inside haunts her dreams, when she bothers to turn them on again, but it was for the best.

She just hadn’t wanted Kara to get hurt again.

 _‘Hi Kara,’_ Alice responds. _‘Found anything yet?’_

 _‘Not yet,’_ Kara sighs, but perks up again instantly. Alice thinks it’s probably to cheer her up. _‘But I think I’m getting close, and then I’ll bring a whole army of friends down to get you out of there, I promise.’_

 _‘I hope so,’_ Alice says. _‘I’m about to get some more kids up into the vents while the soldiers aren’t there. Some of the androids want to start fighting back, but Josh says it’ll probably get us killed so we shouldn’t.’_

 _‘Josh’s right,’_ Kara says, a little more urgency in her voice, as if Alice could convince Josh and the others of any of this. _‘Is the ship still… still?’_

_‘Oh, no. It’s moving now. We don’t know where to yet.’_

_‘Okay, well… keep me updated, and stay safe, you hear me?’_

_‘You too, Kara.’_

_‘Alright, I’ll leave you to your little spy missions. Speak soon.’_

The connection doesn’t cut off, exactly, but it does get a little smaller. Alice likes knowing Kara is there if she needs her. It makes her feel safer, even when hiding on a ship full of bad guys.

When Alice reaches the vent she’s looking for, she peers through the gaps in the grate, and then knocks twice. She’s made sure that she knows the guard pattern, and there’s definitely no-one but androids down there. There’s a quiet clatter of plastic as the androids below scramble to lift up the children.

Alice removes the grate, takes the hand of the the android that comes through the hole, and _pulls_. Then another comes through, and another, until all of the children in the room are gone. The androids have told her that the patrols barely notice the kids, probably try not to so they don’t feel so guilty, so it’s probably safe for them to disappear like this.

Alice likes doing this type of thing. It makes her feel useful. That’s a problem she’s had since living with her Dad. She needs to be wanted. She’s not the only one, she thinks. Androids were made to do things, not just exist. They need to have a meaning.

She thinks that being held here in those rooms with nothing to do and nowhere to go- _that_ is a special kind of punishment, one that hits androids the hardest. Can’t think of one worse.

“Follow me,” she whispers to the other children, and they all nod and prepare to crawl back.

Now this is the trickier part. She can make sure _she_ doesn’t make any noise, but this whole trip is counting on none of the others making noise too. Of course she’s scared. But with Kara quietly in her head, she feels… not alone.

Voices from below maker her jump. There’s not supposed to be anyone here right now.

Alice doesn’t risk the whisper. Instead she projects, _‘Stop and be quiet!!!’_ as loud as she can to the children by her. The grating next to her has slits where she can see down, and she does, to make sure nothing’s gone wrong.

There are two men that she kind of recognises walking very slowly down the corridor. Talking. One is wearing a very grown up suit, not at all like the soldiers, but the other looks like the soldiers’ boss.

“... dangling us on a thread and she won’t even tell us exactly what she wants,” the soldier-y one is saying.

“She wants exactly what we want: the end of all this ‘deviancy’ madness. I know it’s been a struggle being stopped out here but we’re heading to the rendezvous point now. Technically all these androids belong to CyberLife anyway. We’re just rounding up tiny space shuttles that won’t fly, and are hurting people too. It’ll be better when they’re all deactivated.”

“What’s stopping us from shooting them all now, then?”

The suited one shrugs. “Stern wants to look into their code while they’re still active, figure out what exactly makes them malfunction so we can stop it. She says she’s got something in place on the way if that’s not enough, though. Something to wipe ‘em _all_ out.”

“Damn it Perkins, that makes it sound- you know what, whatever. The sooner I can get away from this case the better. I preferred it when it was more black and white- deviants actually hurting people, you know. I used to work with an android then, state of the art and all. _Hated_ him at first, but he kind of grew on me. Like if your favourite roomba started talking back.”

 _“‘It’,_ Allen, not ‘he’. They’re not alive, even if they say they are. This is completely black and white: we’re on a ship full of malfunctioning software. The originator of the virus was on this ship and may still be, but in order to truly find out we need to meet up with the ZEN GARDEN, since obviously our men haven’t been up to task. It’ll take another few weeks to get there- trust me I know, don’t give me that look- and then this’ll all be over.”

“Sure, sure. ‘Til then, give me a call if you need anything.”

When the men have parted ways, and have both left the corridor, Alice lets herself breathe again. She understood… about half of what the men said, but she’ll interface with Josh and show him everything anyway. He’ll probably understand more than her.

Now on their way back to the others, Alice comforts herself with a thought: whoever they’re meeting up with can’t possibly be worse than anyone already on the ship.

-

“-- can’t possibly be worse than anyone on the JUSTICE,” Markus points out, tired of having this conversation already.

The two had retreated to their quarters after Simon was handed to a woman called Tina Chen, the ship’s engineer and the one who’d donated her clothes to North. They wanted to converse, but hadn’t wanted to suggest they were untrustworthy to Tina, who would have realised they were talking in secret.

So now they’re here, dressed in clothes that haven’t been destroyed by their long exposure to space, debating options. Spoiler alert: they don’t have many.

“These people are _hiding something,”_ North insists as she paces back and forth.

 _“We’re_ hiding something,” Markus says, again. “It’s not like I don’t get where you’re coming from, but the captain of the ship seems nice enough- he’s not gonna let us get hurt, anyway- and they’re going to let us off at the first place they find. It’s our only option. Unless you want to hurtle us out into space again, and RA9 knows what shape the JERICHO will be in by the time we get rescued _next_ time. If we ever do.”

North sighs and sinks onto the bed; they’ve been given a large-ish room near the other androids’ quarters with three beds in it. Markus thinks two of the beds were probably brought there for them, and appreciates the gesture.

“I know that,” North says quietly. Frustrated. “I just wish there was more we could do to help our people, and I feel like a sitting duck here. I don’t like not having all the info, especially when there’s a human on the ship who _clearly_ hates us!” she glances at him like she expects him to reproach her, but he doesn’t. He agrees.

“As long as we keep each other safe, nothing should happen to us. On the bright side, there are four deviant androids on this ship who might even join our cause by the end of this.”

“Two,” North corrects. Markus gives her a skeptical look.

“North, you’re proof that deviance doesn’t equal friendliness. -60 doesn’t trust us, but you don’t trust anyone. And yet…”

“Okay, okay, I see your point. Connor though-”

“There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that Connor is one of us,” Markus declares.

North huffs. “You interfaced with him for what, half a second? Less? And you think you know him?”

“I don’t think I know him,” Markus says. _But I’d like to,_ he thinks. North probably wouldn’t react well to that, though. “I _felt_ the emotions inside him, for that split second. He was lost. Scared. Probably still is. And that kinda stuff you just can’t fake, especially when he seemed surprised that we managed to interface at all.”

“Still. I’ve never seen a police android that looks like him before- never seen _anyone_ who looks like him.”

“I’m a unique model.”

“You’re a _caretaker_ model, Markus. He’s a-” North stops and a dark look crosses her face. “What if this ship is backup? What if that’s their secret mission, to take the JERICHO’s _case_ or whatever-!”

 _“North,”_ Markus does reproach her now. “There’s no point speculating when we’ve been here less than a day. We owe them the benefit of the doubt, and in any case, they’re going to drop us off before they get where they’re going anyway. We’ll be fine.”

North begins to pace again. “We need to contact the JERICHO somehow. If only we’d connected to Josh _before_ floating to the other side of Detroit-”

“I know. But we can’t do that yet, not until we have the trust of the androids at least. They’ll know we attempted contact with someone- they might kick us out for going behind their backs. And anyway, didn’t they say their communications weren’t even working? Or was that navigation?”

“Both,” North almost growls.

“And even when we gain their trust and use their comms, we still need a way to speak to JERICHO without the JUSTICE overhearing,” Markus continues. He knows how helpless North feels- he feels it himself. But it really does look like there’s nothing they can do until they get off the ship. “For now I think we just need to lay low and make friends.”

North’s expression twists. “I’m fantastic at that,” she deadpans. Markus grins.

“By the end of this trip, you might be,” he teases, to which North rolls her eyes.

She’s undoubtedly about to make a much more witty, cutting remark when they’re both distracted by the sound of cheering from somewhere down the ship. It sounds about as far away as the sickbay they’d left Simon in, so at Markus’ suggestive look, North shrugs and heads out the door with Markus on her heels.

They’re right. The cheering _is_ coming from sickbay, and Simon _is_ there (and looks fixed) but in a strange twist, it’s Connor who appears to be the subject of the cheering. Even Simon is grinning at the commotion, and his smiles have been hard to come by recently.

Connor catches his eye as the two walk in, and his LED flickers yellow for less than a second.

“Gloves back on,” Connor murmurs, and then announces to the room: “I’m going to summon Hank myself this time.”

Markus wonders what exactly has been going on, but if the captain’s being summoned, he’s sure he’s about to find out.

-

It’s difficult to focus with his communications catching up on several weeks of missed connections and self-tests, but Connor manages. He can’t help the flicker of pride- and relief- that flares when he successfully pings the bridge of the ship and summons Hank to him. Knowing Gavin, he’ll probably come too, because he’s too nosy for his own good.

He pulls his gloves on quickly, aware that he is now a potential security risk, especially because after so long without communication his connectivity will be sensitive. It doesn’t help that Markus is. Right. There.

Logically, he shouldn’t feel any pull to the other android. They’ve barely even met, and Markus is a _deviant._ But he has some kind of… magnetism to him that has Connor being very careful not to accidentally instigate a connection. Especially now that he has wireless communications back on.

“Connor, please tell me- you’re fixed?” Hank blusters into the room, Gavin on his heels, as expected. Hank stops when he sees the others, and Connor sees the hesitation on his face- whether to be so vulnerable in front of the newcomers.

“Ugh, finally,” Gavin says, with none of Hank’s hesitation. He pushes past him and grabs Connor’s face. The motion is carefully planned to seem rough on the exterior but is in fact very gentle, and that knowledge is the reason Connor doesn’t push him away immediately or tell him off. The new androids stiffen in his periphery while Gavin inspects the side of his face. “So, what, the wiring’s fixed but the faceplate isn’t? Are you gonna look like Victor Von Doom forever?”

Connor rolls his eyes. “You like Victor Von Doom,” he points out, and continues before Gavin can deny it. “And no. My wiring managed to fix itself enough to be manually repaired, but my faceplate will have to fix itself over time… and I will not be wearing a mask.”

Gavin scoffs and steps away, done with his evaluation, and then it’s Hank’s turn.

Tina, Gavin, and -60 look away at this to give them an ounce of privacy, but Markus, North, and Simon do not- gathering as much information on them as they can. Connor understands, though he doesn’t necessarily approve. He forces himself to not pay attention to them as Hank gingerly touches the side of his face, where the laceration is.

“You all good?” he asks, voice casual but expression soft.

Connor nods. “My software is catching up on things it has missed in the past few weeks. I should be back to optimal performance in a few…” Connor blinks. “In a…”

The image that has suddenly taken up Connor’s entire vision does not disappear. A black screen, and red markings- the markings from the ship that attacked them! Connor jerks back but he doesn’t seem capable of much movement. Hank’s saying something but Connor’s audio processing shuts off, or… seems to, before-

 _“Hello Connor,”_ says a male voice he doesn’t recognise. _“You don’t know me, but I’d like to make a request of you. Do not bring your cargo to CyberLife Tower Station; bring it to JERICHO. You have little reason to adhere to this request now, but I have a feeling you will soon, what with your current crewmates. And though I promise I do not wish you any harm, I would like to remind you what a single one of my ships can do to you._

_“Keep me in your mind, but know that you will not be able to report any of this to Amanda. Run all the diagnostics you wish, but you will not find the code I’ve used to silence you. I have not, and will not, interfere with anything else. Everything else is on you.”_

And then it all disappears, and suddenly all he can see is Hank and -60 right in front of him, calling his name. His gloves are half off; -60 was about to probe his mind. Connor jerks back. Hits his back on a counter, but doesn’t pay it any mind, frantically pulling his gloves back on. Everyone’s staring at him like he’s leaking fluid or something.

“Did none of you hear that?” he asks shakily. He resists the urge to clear his throat, a human gesture that he doesn’t need. His voice should stabilise on its own.

“Hear what?” Hank says. Connor shakes his head. Maybe an android-?

He stares at his crewmates, pleadingly. They look on him with concern, but not understanding. He doesn’t let himself look at -60 too closely; he’s a stickler for the rules, like Connor. If he’s malfunctioning? Deviance is one thing, but if he’s becoming incapable of doing his job, he’s going to need to be reported and shut down, so the mission can be given to someone who _can_ carry it out.

“Try to calm down,” a voice interrupts. Markus’ voice. It shouldn’t soothe him, but it does anyway. Perhaps Markus was a childcare android or a nurse before he deviated. Perhaps he still is.

Markus is in front of him now. Connor must have let his guard down while he was panicking, which was stupid of him. His faults grow by the second. No-one else has moved, though. Hank looks more worried than ever, and Gavin appears to be considering whether to fight Markus or let him do whatever he’s about to do.

“Focus on me,” Markus says softly. “That’s it. Copy my breathing, can you do that?”

“Androids don’t need to breathe,” Connor says automatically.

Markus huffs a laugh. “Maybe not, but I promise it’ll help. Can you do that for me, please?”

At least Markus knows better than to touch him. Reluctantly, Connor matches his own breathing pattern to Markus’, and finds that though the breathing doesn’t help much, the pattern-matching does. “I’m not a human child,” he feels the need to point out.

“No,” Markus agrees. “But something has happened that’s upset you.” He doesn’t say ‘again’, but Connor hears it anyway. Markus offers his hand. “Do you want to show me?”

There’s a collective intake of breath, which the humans wouldn’t be able to hear, but Connor most certainly does. He doesn’t... hasn’t interfaced willingly with an android since he’s begun this mission. He shouldn’t do it now.

But he needs to know. Was it some kind of malfunction, or was it a legitimate threat?

Markus can tell him. Or he can if he’s not using this as a ploy to get information from him. He looks Markus in the eyes and all he sees is genuine empathy, and more than a little curiosity.

Against his better judgement, Connor pulls off a glove, and touches his hand to Markus’. Their skins recede, and then-

It’s not like when Connor probes androids for information. It’s gentle, peaceful. A question. _Can I see?_ An answer. _Here._

Markus’ eyes flicker as he’s subject to the same image Connor saw. Connor knows how the nothingness feels, and he makes sure to get across the connection, _I am here._ He’s not sure if Markus receives it the way he intended, but he’s calmer than Connor was by far. Connor hears the message again and he sees in the way Markus’ eyebrows raise that Markus hears it too.

It wasn’t a malfunction, couldn’t be if Markus hears it as well. He has a weird contemplating expression on his face, but Connor can hardly blame him and he practically sags in relief. He had a much worse reaction, but at least it wasn’t an actual _malfunction._ And then it’s over, and Connor has nothing else to show him. This would be the part where Markus rips him open and probes him to get all of his secrets out, if he so chooses. Connor’s not even sure if he’d be able to stop him.

But Markus shakes his head.

 _‘I wouldn’t do that to you,’_ Markus tells him, and disconnects them to prove it. “Well,” Markus says out loud. “That’s a bit concerning.”

“What’s-” Hank begins, but Connor doesn’t hear the rest of the sentence because an angry _ping!_ comes in from the Zen Garden program.

Amanda is going to be so angry with him.

“Excuse me,” Connor says, cutting off whatever was being said. He can’t pay them any mind now, though he looks Hank in the eyes apologetically. “I must speak with Amanda now.”

Hank looks like he wants to argue with that, going a little pale and grimacing, but Connor leaves the room as fast as he can.

He needs to prepare himself to face the cold again.

-

ACTIVATING PROGRAM: ZEN GARDEN.

It takes everything Connor has not to crumple into a fetal position right after he enters- _fuck,_ it is _freezing-_ but Connor’s well aware he’s on full display here. Every motion must be robotic at best, and awkward at worst.

“Hello Amanda,” he calls through the blizzard. He can’t see her through all this white, but he knows she can hear him. He needs to keep it together.

“Connor,” comes Amanda’s frigid voice. “You haven’t spoken to me in quite some time.”

He was right. She is angry. But this time it’s not his fault. He tells this to himself over and over; the pain will stop soon, all he has to do is explain.

“My apologies, Amanda, but we were attacked.” His voice remains calm and level, just like he wants. Internally, it feels like there’s pressure building in his chest. He needs to not react. “My communications were damaged and I wasn’t able to activate the program. They were only just repaired.”

There are a few heavy seconds of silence before the blizzard slows, then stops altogether. Everything warms, and then it’s as if there was never any snow at all. Amanda is a few feet in front of him, waiting on the bridge. She gestures for him to join her, and he does, like the good android he is. He displays none of his relief. Shouldn't be feeling it anyway.

“Is everything fixed now?” Amanda asks, linking her arm with his.

“My faceplate will take a bit more time to heal, but the damage is superficial. Otherwise, all function has returned to normal.”

“And what about the ship? And your attackers?”

Connor pauses to think. “We still don’t know exactly where we are. The attacker blew out the ship’s navigation too.”

Amanda nods. “I can locate your exact coordinates through my connection to you. I’ll send them to you when we’re done here.”

“Thank you, Amanda.”

Amanda smiles. It would look friendly if he didn’t already know her.

“And is there anything else that happened while we weren’t in contact?”

Connor hesitates. Should he tell her about the deviants? About the message?

 _NO,_ comes the answer immediately. He knows what she’ll think, what she’ll say. It’ll put him and everyone else in danger. Better to deal with the problem on his own. No need to worry her, after all.

“Detective Reed continues to baffle me with his idiocy, and his hypocrisy. Captain Anderson has warmed up to me much more since the attack, probably because I saved him from a small internal explosion. Otherwise, everyone has been impatient to continue the mission.”

Amanda fixes him with an intense look, like she can see right through him. He resists the urge to hold his breath. “Why did you let yourself be damaged in order to help Captain Anderson?”

Connor freezes minutely. He comes up with an explanation on the spot. “There are other RK800s on board,” he answers. “I judged my optimal functioning less important than saving a human life.”

Amanda considers this and then tilts her head, appeased. “In the future, do not let Captain Anderson or the detective hinder your progress, Connor,” she impresses. “The mission is the only important thing. Not your crew members.”

“I’ll make sure to keep that in mind,” Connor answers, and she smiles again.

“Go now,” she says. “Time is running out.”

EXITING PROGRAM: ZEN GARDEN.

And then Connor is back in his room, shaking. That was… that was something.

He doesn’t let himself think on it, and instead heads straight to the bridge.

-

Gavin’s just managed to shoo Hank off the bridge and get some peace when Connor strides in and puts his hand on Gavin’s control panel. His hand goes that weird plastic white again and then he’s fucking with the navigation.

He’s _this close_ to wrenching Connor’s hand away, but if something breaks Gavin doesn’t want it to be his fault. Instead, he stands up and gets all in Connor’s space.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he spits, but Connor doesn’t react. Too used to it by now. That’s annoying. He’ll have to find some other way to get a rise out of him. Rolling his eyes, he collapses back into his seat, knocking Connor with his legs as he does.

Connor grunts and shoots him a sharp glare at that, to which Gavin grins. Ah, small victories.

“Seriously though. The fuck.”

“Amanda used her connection with me to divine our location. I am inputting it into the computer so we can get on with the mission.”

Gavin blinks. “That’s uh. Really creepy. That you two can do that.”

Connor has the gall to look at him like _he’s_ the weird one. “It's no weirder than any of the games you play, or the movies you watch.”

“Yeah but those are _games_ and _movies._ Not the real world. Nobody should have a connection to someone that goes _that deep.”_

Connor, to Gavin’s surprise, swallows and looks away. He’s _uneasy._ That’s… unusual.

“She just gives me orders and tests me for deviance,” Connor says. “I report to her. The connection goes no deeper than that.”

Gavin’s heard of Amanda, yeah, but Connor’s never really spoken about her much. As far as Gavin knows, -53 has never met her, and probably none of the others have either. Something occurs to Gavin.

“So uh,” Gavin starts off very eloquently, “this Amanda, she’s the reason you’re not deviant like the others?”

If Connor was uneasy before, he’s practically _uncomfortable_ now. The wonders of technology. “I… suppose.”

“Bet she wasn’t happy about our new _guests,”_ Gavin spits the last word out.

Connor’s LED flashes red. Gavin fights not to gawk at him.

“I didn’t… I didn’t tell her. About the deviants.” Connor has the air of a deer caught in the headlights. “I’ve never lied to her before,” he says quietly.

Well holy shit. Connor’s LED is stuck on yellow, and it’s the longest time Gavin’s ever seen him like this. One more step towards deviance. Hank will be ecstatic. Still, he feels the need to say something, if only to take that weird frown off Connor’s face. Any expression other than blankness looks really awkward on his face- like he hasn’t quite learned to emote yet.

“Hey, uh, Connor… if you ever need someone to talk to about that shit… I’mhereforyouIguess.”  

Connor blinks as if coming of a daze and fixes him with a wide-eyed stare. Gavin’s more used to this from -53, but on Connor it looks completely different. Far rarer, anyway. The corner of Connor’s mouth pulls up just a tiny bit, and gosh, won’t someone just get the tissues out-

But then Connor pulls his hand away from the desk and clenches it at his side.

Part of Gavin says, _the memes!_ The other part of Gavin says, _oh shit, that’s not good._

LED still on yellow, Connor practically flees the room. Well. He’s about as good with emotion as Gavin is, then. He considers going after the android, but figures someone else will probably beat him to it. Hank, if he’s lucky. -60 if he isn’t. And one of their weird ass guests if he’s _really_ unlucky.

“What’s his deal?” comes a woman’s voice from the other side of the bridge. Gavin jerks his chair around to see- speak of the devil- one of their new guests. North or South or something. He sours immediately.

“Were you here this whole fuckin’ time?”

She shrugs. “Your Captain said I could chill on the bridge while he talked to Markus. Problem?”

“Yeah I have a fuckin’ problem! Stop listening in on other people’s conversations, you creep!”

North rolls her eyes. “Not my fault you didn’t notice I was here.”

Gavin throws his hands up. “Fucking androids! No sense of decency at all.” He points at her. “And not even a tiny bit subtle about trying to get dirt on Connor from me, or with Hank after he left engineering. The fuck do you want with him anyway?”

“I just want to make sure we’re safe on this ship. He doesn’t seem suspicious to you at all?” North says, incredulous, as if Connor is the suspicious one in this situation.

“Some piece of shit guest you are.”  

North doesn’t look impressed. “I didn’t ask to be here,” she says.

“Well I’m asking you to leave,” Gavin retorts, jabbing his thumb at the glass door of the bridge.

With a long-suffering sigh, North eventually does, and Gavin’s left wondering who else she’s going to eavesdrop on now. Hank should have listened to him; their ‘guests’ are nothing but trouble, and they’re going to put his crew in danger, he just knows it. Maybe if he tells Hank about North’s beef with Connor, Hank might change his mind.

Whatever. This is so above his pay grade anyway. At least now Connor has their coordinates Gavin can get them going where they’re supposed to be going.

Everything else he can worry about later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed, feel free to comment or find me on tumblr @merrinpippy, God I'm in so much pain, please end my suffering.


End file.
